


Primes Don't Party

by Fulcrumisthebomb



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Fluff, M/M, and gay robots, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulcrumisthebomb/pseuds/Fulcrumisthebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus isn't the only Autobot that doesn't 'party'- at least, not by their definition.</p><p>Spoilers for the Season 1 episode 'Con Job'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primes Don't Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jeegoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeegoo/gifts).



> -related to an interesting point/quote Arcee brought up in the episode Con Job  
> -giftfic for Jee! I wanted to make her feel better with fluffy gay robots <3

It was bad enough when there was just one of Bulkhead’s obnoxious and destructive friends on the loose- knowing that the first one had been a fake didn’t ease my anxiety. If the ‘Con had been that annoying just _pretending_ to be Wheeljack… the real one was even _worse._ I’d lost two welders and calibration meter into the first hour of the second, ‘real’ party. And since Optimus was out doing whatever it was he did on his own- most likely covering the nightly patrols the celebrating morons had abandoned- there was no one there to ensure the noisy crowd would obey my authority.

After a third welder had been crushed underfoot, I retreated to the sick bay, allowing myself to curse and vent loudly once the doors sealed shut. It was all too tempting to break a few objects myself, but that would’ve been counterproductive.

I am _never_ counterproductive.

It was easy enough to repair the calibration meter; fortunately it had only been dented when knocked off my desk by an overenthusiastic embrace. The welders were less delicate instruments, made to withstand a lot of punishment from either their function or outside forces, but the first had been almost completely crushed and I couldn’t afford to trash it. The metals were too precious, and our resources were low at the best of times. Keeping up a steady stream of ambivalent insults, I set about fixing the damage.

It was slow-going, requiring most of my attention to gently reshape the welder and test and re-test it’s functionality. I ignored the occasional cries and yells that seeped through the doors; I ignored Bumblebee’s kind-hearted but unnecessary invitation back into the celebration; I ignored the habitual warnings that I should recharge soon. Working, whether on inanimate or living metal, had always calmed me. Gradually I relaxed, consoling myself with the destruction I was undoing.

My exhaustion must have been greater than I’d assessed, as I started online when a hand squeezed my own. I had slumped over the workstation during my impromptu recharge and I bolted upright, alert and confused. I sighed when I noted the serious blue eyes hovering over me anxiously and I tried to swat Optimus’ hand away.

“I’m fine, or I _would_ be if you could keep Bulkhead from _ruining_ my equipment-,”

“Ratchet.”

I stilled immediately, watching with no small amount of fascination as he folded one of my hands in his again.

“You know I worry over you.”

My optics flickered, lulling into complacency by the soft tone of his voice. Nothing could relax me as well as listening to him. “There’s no need.”

“There is when I find you recharging standing up,” he replied, the hint of disappointment offset by an equal amount of amusement. “Why did you leave the celebration? Wheeljack will not be here much longer if you wish to acquaint yourself.”

“I’d like to acquaint his head with my fist,” I muttered, stepping closer. His energy fields were warm and comforting, especially when I was this tired. “Besides,” I added with a wry smile, “I’m too old to _party._ ”

Optimus leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of my face. “Then spend the evening with me.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing,” I smiled as I wrapped my arms around his neck.


End file.
